08/07/2010: R.A. Dickey finds stability with unpredictable pitch

Knuckleball extends MLB career

Nov. 13, 2012

Written by

Jeff Lockridge | The Tennessean

NOTE: This story originally published on Aug. 7, 2010.

ATLANTA — It's the day after R.A. Dickey's latest start. His legs are sore. His body is stiff. But his right arm is golden.

"I could throw again today," the 35-year-old New York Mets pitcher says.

One fan taking a tour of Turner Field recognizes the knuckleballer as he walks past the visitors dugout.

"That's R.A. Dickey," the fan whispers not so quietly to the group. "Nice game, R.A.!"

"Thank you," Dickey answers.

If his stellar pitching continues, the former Montgomery Bell Academy and Tennessee standout will be getting recognized more often. The Nashville native has emerged as one of the game's top pitchers over the past 11 weeks.

No one counted on this level of production from a veteran journeyman who began the season in Triple-A and hasn't had a winning season in seven years. His seesaw career was on the brink of ending in 2005 when he embraced the dancing knuckler as a last resort to stay in baseball.

On Tuesday, Dickey held the first-place Braves to two runs over six innings, the 13th time in 15 starts that he has limited an opponent to three earned runs or fewer. The Mets won, 3-2.

If Dickey (7-4) had the innings to qualify — he will after a few more starts — his 2.36 ERA would be tied with Atlanta's Tim Hudson for fourth-best in the majors. On Sunday, Dickey opposes Philadelphia ace Roy Halladay, second in ERA at 2.17.

"He is looking as good as any knuckleball pitcher I have ever seen," said Hall of Fame knuckleball pitcher Phil Niekro, who tutored Dickey in January 2008. "With any kind of offense, he'd be 10-1 or 11-1. He's the best pitcher they have going right now."

Difficult decision

Four years ago, Dickey couldn't even stick on a major-league roster. Except for one April appearance with the Texas Rangers, when Dickey tied the modern-day record for home runs allowed in a game (six) against Detroit, he spent 2006 in the minors.

It had been more than a year since the Rangers "strongly suggested" he adopt the knuckleball to stay in the game.

Dickey and his wife, Anne, began discussing the future and the toll his time in Triple-A was taking.

"I had seen husbands who had retired because family life gets so hard," Anne said. "We had to sit down and say, 'What's going to win? The desire to control your future or do what he felt like he was called to do?'

"With as many minuses as there were, there were also pluses. I love the adventure. The thought of having a predictable future seems as intimidating as not knowing what's around the next corner."

Dickey said the talks about giving up baseball were serious.

"But when push came to shove," he said, "we both felt like I still had something to offer."

That offseason Dickey went to Ensworth High School, where his former MBA basketball coach, Ricky Bowers, is athletics director as well as football and boys basketball coach. He threw an estimated 4,000 knuckleballs against the gym wall to hone his grip and rotation.

In 2007, he was Pacific Coast League Pitcher of the Year for the Nashville Sounds. Dickey spent the past two seasons primarily in the majors with Seattle and Minnesota, compiling a 4.99 ERA as a starter and reliever and a 6-9 record. Last December he signed a minor-league contract with the Mets.

Dream season

Dickey's path to the Big Apple began in Buffalo.

But his success soon forced the Mets' hand. A 4-2 record with a 2.23 ERA in eight Triple-A starts featured what Dickey dubbed the "imperfect perfect game" when he issued a leadoff single before retiring 27 in a row against Durham.

Dickey was called up to pitch May 19 at Washington. He blanked the Phillies in six innings in his second outing.

Everything had come together. In a matter of weeks, he became the first pitcher in Mets history to have at least five wins and no losses in his first six starts.

"The way he has helped us out has been amazing," Mets ace Johan Santana said. "In this game, you never know. He's what, 35 years old? I'm very proud of him because he, for a lot of people, came out of nowhere to be an important piece of what we're trying to do."

Dickey has been able to consistently locate a pitch that is, by nature, unpredictable. Boston's Tim Wakefield is the only other pitcher in the majors whose main pitch is a knuckleball.

"I don't think there was ever one euphoric moment or some grand epiphany where I said, 'OK, I've got it now,' " Dickey said. "It's been much more of a journey. I had mechanical muscle memory. It had become instinctual, finally, after training with it four-and-a-half years."

Dickey throws his knuckleball in the 70-82 mph range, adjusting speeds to keep batters guessing. About once every 10 pitches, he mixes in a fastball that reaches the upper 80s. But he is committed to the knuckler.

"He throws it up there with some mean behind it," Niekro said. "He's an animal."

Center stage

New York is its own animal with the media scrutiny. So far Dickey has fared well.

"If he's not the most thoughtful and well-spoken person in that clubhouse, he's near the top of the list," said Mike Sielski, Mets beat writer for The Wall Street Journal.

"In the visiting clubhouse at Dodger Stadium, R.A.'s locker was next to Jason Bay's. Within a five-minute span, Jason used the word kerfuffle (disorder) and R.A. used the word surmised (infer). The reporters were joking, 'Who uses words like this in a baseball clubhouse?' I made the comment that there's more intelligence concentrated in these two lockers than just about any clubhouse in professional sports in the United States."

Dickey, an English major at UT, is always toting books. Recently it was the Life of Pi. Currently it's a compilation of short stories.

What Dickey won't read is the New York papers. He simply hands over press clippings, good or bad, to Anne for posterity's sake.

The Dickeys could pen their own manuscript on U.S. travels. From Anne's cross-country flights with three kids to a family of five living in unfurnished, one-bedroom apartments in Tacoma, Rochester or Oklahoma City, the experiences are countless.

Now they are renting a house in luxurious Greenwich, Conn., a 40-minute commute to Citi Field by car, 80 minutes by train. It's not quite as swanky as it sounds. Anne caught a mouse for the 13th time in the house Thursday night.

"There are a lot of trees," Dickey said. "It's the closest I could get to Tennessee being in the northeast."

Soon they will return to their permanent address near MBA's campus so the children can attend Julia Green Elementary. Their home is in better shape now than in May when, like so many others, the Nashville floods submerged their basement.

Financial control

Since turning pro, Dickey never has had a guaranteed major-league contract. That should change in the coming months.

If a new contract hasn't been agreed upon and the Mets opt to keep Dickey on their roster when the season ends, they have to offer him arbitration.

"I will have some bargaining power," he said.

The Mets are enjoying one of baseball's best bargains with Dickey's pro-rated $600,000 contract based on his days of major-league service. He was making about $75,000 while in Buffalo.

"With what I've been through, I don't take anything for granted and I don't feel like I'm entitled to anything," Dickey said. "So every time I go out there, I try to pretend like it's my first and last game at the same time. But I definitely would like to stay in New York."

The real selling point to Dickey is that his age has become irrelevant. Niekro won 121 games after 40 and pitched until he was 48. Wakefield turned 44 on Monday.

"As far as the pitch is concerned, I feel like I'm 27 in knuckleball years," Dickey said.

Dickey has roughly five years of major-league service. Ten is fully vested for pension purposes, a number he'd like to reach.

Money aside, Dickey admits that big-league success has earned him something almost as important: facial hair.

While beards are widely forbidden in the minors, anything goes in the majors outside of the Yankees organization. Dickey said his kids — Mary Gabriel, 8, Lila, 7, and Eli, 3 — don't recognize him and refuse to come to him when he is clean-shaven.